Towards The Evening Of This Day, (Friday 7th,) The Fog Cleared Off,
And We Had Every Appearance Of A Cold Blow; And Soon After Sun-Down
It Came On.
Again it was clew up and haul down, reef and furl,
until we had got her down to close-reefed topsails, double-reefed
trysail, and reefed forespenser.
Snow, hail, and sleet were driving
upon us most of the night, and the sea was breaking over the bows
and covering the forward part of the little vessel; but as she would
lay her course the captain refused to heave her to.
Saturday, Nov. 8th. This day commenced with calm and thick fog,
and ended with hail, snow, a violent wind, and close-reefed topsails.
Sunday, Nov. 9th. To-day the sun rose clear and continued so until
twelve o'clock, when the captain got an observation. This was very
well for Cape Horn, and we thought it a little remarkable that,
as we had not had one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage,
the only tolerable day here should be a Sunday. We got time to
clear up the steerage and forecastle, and set things to rights,
and to overhaul our wet clothes a little. But this did not last
very long. Between five and six - the sun was then nearly three
hours high - the cry of "All starbowlines ahoy!" summoned our watch
on deck; and immediately all hands were called. A true specimen
of Cape Horn was coming upon us. A great cloud of a dark slate-color
was driving on us from the south-west; and we did our best to take
in sail, (for the light sails had been set during the first part of
the day,) before we were in the midst of it. We had got the light
sails furled, the courses hauled up, and the topsail reef-tackles
hauled out, and were just mounting the fore-rigging, when the storm
struck us. In an instant the sea, which had been comparatively quiet,
was running higher and higher; and it became almost as dark as night.
The hail and sleet were harder than I had yet felt them; seeming to
almost pin us down to the rigging. We were longer taking in sail
than ever before; for the sails were stiff and wet, the ropes and
rigging covered with snow and sleet, and we ourselves cold and nearly
blinded with the violence of the storm. By the time we had got down
upon deck again, the little brig was plunging madly into a tremendous
head sea, which at every drive rushed in through the bow-ports and
over the bows, and buried all the forward part of the vessel. At this
instant the chief mate, who was standing on the top of the windlass,
at the foot of the spenser mast, called out, "Lay out there and furl
the jib!" This was no agreeable or safe duty, yet it must be done.
An old Swede, (the best sailor on board,) who belonged on the forecastle,
sprang out upon the bowsprit. Another one must go: I was near the mate,
and sprang forward, threw the down-haul over the windlass, and jumped
between the knight-heads out upon the bowsprit. The crew stood abaft
the windlass and hauled the jib down, while we got out upon the weather
side of the jib-boom, our feet on the foot ropes, holding on by the spar,
the great jib flying off to leeward and slatting so as almost to throw
us off of the boom. For some time we could do nothing but hold on,
and the vessel diving into two huge seas, one after the other, plunged us
twice into the water up to our chins. We hardly knew whether we were
on or off; when coming up, dripping from the water, we were raised high
into the air. John (that was the sailor's name) thought the boom
would go, every moment, and called out to the mate to keep the vessel
off, and haul down the staysail; but the fury of the wind and the
breaking of the seas against the bows defied every attempt to make
ourselves heard, and we were obliged to do the best we could in our
situation. Fortunately, no other seas so heavy struck her, and we
succeeded in furling the jib "after a fashion"; and, coming in over
the staysail nettings, were not a little pleased to find that all
was snug, and the watch gone below; for we were soaked through,
and it was very cold. The weather continued nearly the same
through the night.
Monday, Nov. 10th. During a part of this day we were hove to,
but the rest of the time were driving on, under close-reefed sails,
with a heavy sea, a strong gale, and frequent squalls of hail and snow.
Tuesday, Nov. 11th. The same.
Wednesday, Nov. 12th. The same.
Thursday, Nov. 13th. The same.
We had now got hardened to Cape weather, the vessel was under
reduced sail, and everything secured on deck and below, so that
we had little to do but steer and to stand our watch. Our clothes
were all wet through, and the only change was from wet to more wet.
It was in vain to think of reading or working below, for we were
too tired, the hatchways were closed down, and everything was wet
and uncomfortable, black and dirty, heaving and pitching. We had
only to come below when the watch was out, wring out our wet clothes,
hang them up, and turn in and sleep as soundly as we could, until the
watch was called again. A sailor can sleep anywhere - no sound of
wind, water, wood or iron can keep him awake - and we were always
fast asleep when three blows on the hatchway, and the unwelcome
cry of "All starbowlines ahoy! eight bells there below! do you
hear the news?" (the usual formula of calling the watch), roused us
up from our berths upon the cold, wet decks.
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